


The Festival of Mortilus

by Anon_E_Miss



Series: The Polihexian Waltz [2]
Category: Transformers - AU, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Festival of Mortilus, Fluff, Holiday, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon_E_Miss/pseuds/Anon_E_Miss
Summary: In the principality of Polihex the miserable wet season referred to as the Rains is marked by nine mega-cycles of celebration. Join Prowl as he discovers this new celebration with Jazz as his guide.Set in the Universe of Cloak and Mask, the first Stellar-Cycle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary:  
> Nanoklik: second  
> Klik: minute  
> Bream: 8 kliks  
> Joor: Hour  
> Mega-cycle: Day/20 joor  
> Orn: Week/9 mega-cycles  
> Decaorn: 10 orn  
> Quartex: Month, 5 orn, 45 mega-cycle  
> Stellar-cycle: Year/450 mega-cycles/10 quartexes  
> Vorn: 83 stellar-cycles  
> Comm speak -"  
> Normal speak "  
> Bond speak “italics”  
> ATS: Advanced Tactical Systems  
> Originator: “mother”, carrier  
> Progenitor: “father”, sire  
> Procreator: parent  
> Contributive spark: spark better suited to “fathering” a creations  
> Receptive spark: spark more likely to conceive creations.  
> To kindle, to spark, to bud: to conceive  
> Emergence: birth  
> Apterium: Structure of lower doorwing joint.  
> Months  
> Primarii  
> Solomnii  
> Kinserii  
> Theomachius  
> Epistii  
> Sigmus  
> Adaptii  
> Aureas  
> Coventus  
> Mortius

Despite all the warnings, and all the preparations, Prowl could not deny that he had been caught by surprise by the force of the storms that battered Polihex. Those first showers, those that had be pouring at the beginning of the wet season had seemed harsh enough, but these storming now were actually quite shocking. It actually amazed the Praxian that the buildings of capital seemed to be able to withstand the Rains unblemished. He understood now why they had taken all those crystals small enough to transplant into the greenhouses, and those too large to move had been covered with heavy sheeting. According to Jazz this season had been relatively mild so far, there had been no flooding, the levies remained intact in even the outer reaches where the storms were strongest. Prowl did not want to try and visualize what a bad season would look like, his ATS projections could get particularly dire if he thought on anything for too long.

 

It was not only the torrential downpours that startled Prowl, but the intense cold. Praxus had its cold spells during the wet season, but nothing like this. Though the strong finish on his plating kept the acid rain from eating away at Prowl’s plating, it did nothing to insulate his protoform against the frigid temperature. He retained his heat better in his alt-mode, as long as he kept moving, Prowl stayed warm, but if he parked, if he stayed in his primary mode for any length of time, the cold stole into his protoform, and made the coolant and energon in his lines freeze up. Though he cooled uncomfortably quickly, it took far long to warm up. The only saving grace was that the season was not so long, only two and a half quartexes, and the peak was only a little over an orn away, and from there the weather would only improve, this was something to look forward to.

 

Cold as it was, wet as it was Prowl found himself feeling claustrophobic after largely remaining indoors for two orns, and so despite the nasty weather, while Jazz was busy in meetings with the city leaders, Prowl stepped out of the warm palace, and into the storm. He would not ask Nightbeat to join him, and so Prowl elected to drive off his claustrophobia within the Palace’s wildlife park. Just off the barren gardens, the cultivated forest had a well maintained private road running through it, and that was the Praxian’s destination. His arrival at the end of the dry season had prevented Prowl from witnessing the forest in it’s lushest state, but Prowl thought he might get an idea of what it might look like in just a few quartexes time during his drive.

 

Remaining indoors for indeterminate lengths had never really trouble Prowl before but he had been busier then. Three mega-cycles of Enforcer service left the prince six mega-cycles of largely empty time. Jazz involved him in the early planning for the renovation of the old harem complex, but even with the counsel dismissed for the season, there were still many meetings, and considerable work for the Prince of Polihex to engage in, leaving Prowl to his own devices. There would have been responsibilities for him were the Praxian the Consort, but as Official Amica Endura his responsibilities were strictly for the pleasure of the Prince, he had no true authority within the palace, nothing to occupy his time. He wrote to his brothers, to Mirage, but chose his glyphs carefully, said nothing of his boredom, offered no suggestion that he might have been a little unhappy, a little lost.

 

Bluestreak would worry, Mirage and Smokescreen would find some reason to blame Jazz for it, and Prowl had no desire to deal with either reaction. The truth of the matter was that it was his responsibility to find his own happiness and his own amusement, not Jazz. It was a work in progress, and most mega-cycles the Praxian did not feel particularly bereft, but the continual storm was wearing on his processor, as much as everything else, and so Prowl set out to burn off some of his restless energy, and some of his distress. He did have a project to occupy his time, the development of the criminal sciences program, but it was still in its infancy, and it was not entirely his alone and for the moment he could not make any headway on it as the schools were closed for a seasonal break.

 

So he drove about the empty wildness park that made up the majority of the palace lands. Here crystals, and meta-flora grew wild, and unprotected. In warmer, drier quartexes it would be lush, and bright, and filled with mechanimals. But the crystals were all dark and dormant, the meta-flora scarred, and bare from the acid rain, the mechanismals were either hibernating or had migrated elsewhere to wait out the harsh weather. It was an a sobering sight, and utterly silent, it was in fact rather eerie. Polihex as a whole had grown quiet as the concerts had all been taken indoors. Prowl had not expected he would miss all the noise, but in the short time he had resided in this foreign prince, he had grown to expect music wherever he turned. He drove by the cobalt trees, their blue branches bare, and mottled with purple and lime green patches, and the trees of the chrome-alloy and lead grover were bare as well, scarred as well, though in a matter of quartexes they would be full of crystals, ready to be harvested.

 

By the time Prowl had completed the drive, Alpha Centaurii was setting. The skies had already been rather dark, the sun obscured by the storm clouds, at no point during his drive had the storm broken, and as Prowl reverted to his primary mode at the steps of the palace steps it felt even colder than it had earlier. With his engine turned down only for a few nanokliks, the Praxian already felt sluggish, and clumsy. Really, it had been too cold for a drive, especially one that had lasted a few joors, but Prowl felt better for the experience. Despite the barrenness, the bleakness, there had been a silent promise of the colour, and the new life to come. He would take the drive again, when he felt too smothered by the walls of the palace, but perhaps on a slightly warmer mega-cycle.

 

Two guards stood just inside the doors of the palace, and as Prowl climbed the steps, they opened the doors. A wave of heat met him, and the Praxian released a soft vent. The guards must have thought him a foreign fool. At no point in his drive had Prowl encountered any other mechanisms, or any mechanimal. Polihexians, those native and those adopted stayed holed up in their homes or businesses. That was fine, however Prowl had been somewhat foolish to have spent so long outside, and really quite a bit longer than he had intended but the drive had become meditative, and soothing and the prince had simply not felt the cold. As he stepped into the welcoming heat, a guard stepped forward and offered him a large towel.

 

“Just to dry off a bit before ya find your suite,” the guard explained. “Might warm ya up some.”

 

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. They may have thought him a fool, they may not have, but that either had bothered to concern themselves with his comfort, well it mattered.

 

He did wipe himself down, though he did not linger on it. Prowl knew the only thing that would warm his frame at any speed was a hot shower, and that was precisely what he intended to have. Returning the towel to the guard, when the femme extended her servos, the Praxian began the not too short trek to his suite. With any luck, Jazz would be done his meetings shortly and they might refuel together. They still getting to know each other, and still learning how to play their parts, but Prowl enjoyed the Polihexian’s company, found matching wits with him a little thrilling. Thinking on it, the Praxian hoped he might be able find it in himself to entice Jazz to interface. They had not since Prowl had over done it, and the prince thought his companion still felt guilty for it, when really how could he have known when Prowl had said nothing? The fact was the Praxian had found he liked interfacing, the shared pleasure itself was enjoyable, but the overloads were really quite cathartic.

 

Though warmed energon would help warm his frame, Prowl really did hope to share fuel with Jazz, however late in the dark-cycle he might need to wait, and so he set his processor on a hot shower, and when he reached the door to his rooms he let out a little vent of relief. Despite the warmth of the palace, he really did not feel it in his protoform. His spark sank a little when he saw energon sitting on his sitting table, though he perked a little when he saw Jazz standing nearby. Prowl swallowed his disappointment of delaying his shower. Of course the Praxian knew the sovereign would leave him to his shower if he said anything about it, but Prowl had missed his company, and so he elected to keep his vocalizer mute; he need not have hesitated to speak.

 

“Ya look like y’er lines have frozen up,” Jazz said.

 

“Not severely,” Prowl replied. “I will admit I was out in the rain longer than I intended.”

 

“Did ya enjoy yer drive?” The Polihexian asked, and he walked up and took Prowl’s servos in his, warming the cold plating.

 

“I did,” the prince said. “It’s beautiful in its stillness. The Rains have left colourful layers of scars on the trees.”

 

“It can be very pretty this time o’ stellar-cycle,” Jazz agreed. “The energon’ll keep. How ‘bout we share a shower.”

 

“I would enjoy,” Prowl said. His spark fluttered. Here was his opportunity. He infused his silent field with a subtle ripple of of intent and arousal. Jazz’s visor lit up, and a smile slowly spread across his face, as he wove his field into Prowl’s, and covered the Praxian’s mouth with his own.

 

End Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Nanoklik: second  
> Klik: minute  
> Bream: 8 kliks  
> Joor: Hour  
> Mega-cycle: Day/20 joor  
> Orn: Week/9 mega-cycles  
> Decaorn: 10 orn  
> Quartex: Month, 5 orn, 45 mega-cycle  
> Stellar-cycle: Year/450 mega-cycles/10 quartexes  
> Vorn: 83 stellar-cycles  
> Comm speak -"  
> Normal speak "  
> Bond speak “italics”  
> ATS: Advanced Tactical Systems  
> Originator: “mother”, carrier  
> Progenitor: “father”, sire  
> Procreator: parent  
> Contributive spark: spark better suited to “fathering” a creations  
> Receptive spark: spark more likely to conceive creations.  
> To kindle, to spark, to bud: to conceive  
> Emergence: birth  
> Apterium: Structure of lower doorwing joint.  
> Months  
> Primarii  
> Solomnii  
> Kinserii  
> Theomachius  
> Epistii  
> Sigmus  
> Adaptii  
> Aureas  
> Coventus  
> Mortius

The hot shower brought Prowl’s core temperature back up to normal, and the slow interface that highlighted it cleared the build up in his ATS, leaving the Praxian feeling considerably less morose. Seated straight against the back of his chair now, Prowl accepted the mug of warm energon from Jazz, and waited for the other mech to sit in the chair across the small table from him. They were to watch the storm together, at Jazz’s suggestion. Though the prince was not at all sure what the point was, he made no argument, and no complaint. He wanted the company, and if watching the heavy storm moving over the capital was what the Polihexian wanted to share with him, it could not really be a waste of time. Wasting time... it was something Prowl felt like he was doing a lot in Polihex. Bluestreak would likely be pleased, he had always complained that his elder brother would work himself into stasis if not for his and Smokescreen’s interference, but Prowl really did not know what else to do with himself. Would he find the answer in this storm.

Lightening leapt across the sky. Prowl did not actually jolt, though it was a close thing. Thunder followed nanoklik later. The Praxian’s doorwings tingled with the brilliant flash and the rolling boom. At first, Prowl was unsure what he thought of the sensation but with each successful lightening burst and thunder crashh, he found that he did not dislike it. Gradually, Prowl relaxed and watched the storm as he sipped his energon. He did not think he would enjoy this at all outside, rather the prince thought he would find it unnerving, and perhaps overstimulating. But from inside his room, where the music of the palace was only a faint whisper, the sensations were soft, and if not pleasant, not unpleasant either. Jazz enjoyed it, and as the kliks passed, Prowl found he was watching play of light and shadows over his companion’s faceplates with each flash of lightening, rather than the lightening itself.

When he realized what he was doing, the Praxian tried to put his attention back to the storm, feeling a bit like a fool. The storm was actually rather beautiful in its own right, though the shadows and highlights it cast on Jazz were more interesting. He was infatuated with the mech, and that was galling. Prowl did not want to given more of himself than he could ever hope to get back. Liking Jazz was good, loving him was acceptable, but falling in love with him was not. Jazz like him. Jazz respected him. It was not outside of the realm of probability for Jazz to love as he would any friend. But the odds of Jazz ever being in love with Prowl were too slim to measure. Jazz would be a friend, a friend and a lover to Prowl, and Prowl would be all that for him. It would be enough. 

“Were your meetings productive?” Prowl asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

“Yah, got everything finalized for the festival,” Jazz replied. “They think the Rains might be weak enough by then to have the booths outside under awnings instead o’ in the guild halls.”

“There is a festival?” The prince asked, chagrined, feeling like he had missed something rather important.

“Oh... yah!” The Polihexian said with a look of chagrin himself. “I guess Praxus don’t celebrate the Festival of Mortilus.”

“No,” Prowl confirmed, and with some hesitation, explained: “His worship is not outlawed but it is not considered... decent.”

“It ain’t a festival o’ worship,” Jazz explained, a broad smile forming. “Okay, it is but not of Mortilus. It’s... It’s a real Polihexian thing. Festival marks the peak o’ the Rains. It celebrates the fact that no matter how slaggin’ awful the weather’s been, it’ll only get better.”

“That is intriguing,” the Praxian said. “How do you celebrate? I do not wish to offend your citizens.”

“There won’t be any offendin’,” the sovereign assured him. “It’s a party. Music, fuel, gifts ‘n fun for a whole orn. Last orn o’ this quartex.”

“It does sound like a suitably Polihexian celebration,” Prowl replied. “You enjoy it, I gather?”

“Didn’t get to celebrate it much,” Jazz revealed. “Uraya don’t practice the same way. Kaon don’t celebrate it at all. Whenever I good be here for it, I was... It’s my favourite holiday. Origin told me every frametype has a holiday for the cold quartexes... What’s Praxus’?”

“We celebrate the New Stellar-Cycle in the lunar calendar,” the prince explained. “It will occur mid-Solomnii this coming stellar-cycle. It is a celebration of colour and light.”

“Just before my coronation,” Polihexian replied. “Would ya like to celebrate it in the palace, together?”

“I would,” Prowl said. “I would be grateful to share one of my traditions.”

“I’m excited to share it, ‘n to share mine,” Jazz replied. “I’ll take ya with me into the city tomorrow, so ya can see what we’re lookin’ forward to.”

“I would enjoy that,” the Praxian replied, and Jazz smiled, and he leaned over the table and kissed Prowl, and the Praxian’s spark sang. This was love, this thing that made his spark flutter, he told himself, not love.

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So ya... I'm late. I'm usually late for fic. Updates for other fics are slowly coming along. I haven't been writing, haven't had the energy or the drive but that's resolving so here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Nanoklik: second  
> Klik: minute  
> Bream: 8 kliks  
> Joor: Hour  
> Mega-cycle: Day/20 joor  
> Orn: Week/9 mega-cycles  
> Decaorn: 10 orn  
> Quartex: Month, 5 orn, 45 mega-cycle  
> Stellar-cycle: Year/450 mega-cycles/10 quartexes  
> Vorn: 83 stellar-cycles  
> Comm speak -"  
> Normal speak "  
> Bond speak “italics”  
> ATS: Advanced Tactical Systems  
> Originator: “mother”, carrier  
> Progenitor: “father”, sire  
> Procreator: parent  
> Contributive spark: spark better suited to “fathering” a creations  
> Receptive spark: spark more likely to conceive creations.  
> To kindle, to spark, to bud: to conceive  
> Emergence: birth  
> Apterium: Structure of lower doorwing joint.  
> Months  
> Primarii  
> Solomnii  
> Kinserii  
> Theomachius  
> Epistii  
> Sigmus  
> Adaptii  
> Aureas  
> Coventus  
> Mortius

True to his glyph, Jazz took Prowl with him into the city where he was meeting with Masters of Brewing at their guild hall. Several different oil houses and bars would be supplying the festivities with free fuel during the orn of celebration, and during the third mega-cycle there would be a competition where both Master Distillers and novices would present their best engex to be judged, as was tradition, Jazz would be one of the judges. There had been some complaint against this, within the Counsel, prior to the end of the session, because the period of deepest mourning for Prince Greyshield had not quite passed. But talks with the brewers, and with the population at large had revealed that the mechanisms of Polihex wanted their festival, they clung to the traditions, and it would not be the same without a Prince sitting as judge, and while the Counsel had not necessarily deferred to this before returning to their clanlands, but after the near assassination, the frantic fear that had immediately followed Jazz had concluded that his citizens needed to, and wanted to see their Prince.

They were not alone on their drive. Two contingents of Royal guard were with them, Prowl’s Phalanx, and Jazz’s Aegis had them completely encircled. It was almost claustrophobic but given what had occurred, knowing as he did that the processor or processors behind the failed attack were still out there, could even be in the capital itself, Prowl knew their presence was sensible, and he knew he would adjust. They would not be stepping anywhere near the scene of a crime, new investigation or old, until they had undergone serious training, at his servos, but there was time for that. The Praxian was not meant to serve as an investigator, so much as an overseer and outside of particularly sensitive cases, Prowl could do his work perfectly well from within the station, and this was what the Praefectus Vigilum wished as well. He saw at target written on Prowl’s helm, and the elder Enforcer saw it as his responsibility to keep his Secondus, and his Enforcers out of the line of fire, and the Praxian could hardly find a fault in his argument, though he had not put that much processor power into it.

Only a pair of each the Phalanx and the Aegis followed the couple into the guildhall, the remaining mechanisms remained outside, some in their alt-modes, some in their primary modes, keeping vigilant. Nightbeat and an Enforcer called Siren stood as Prowl’s guard, a pair of guardmechs called Crosshairs and Speedstream stood for Jazz. Both pairs hung back as Jazz linked his arm with Prowl and led him over to the Master Brewers. As always, and the Praxian was fairly certain this annoyed his companion, the Prince’s subjects prostrated themselves. They stood quickly enough, but Prowl could feel the tension in Jazz’s frame. He would come to accept the display of respect and observance, the subordinate prince thought of Jazz, though he suspected it would take the Polihexian considerable time. This level of deference from the rank and file to any mech was bound to clash with the sovereign’s considerably less rigid belief system, but he would have known that it was build into the components of his mechansisms.

“Masters Corkscrew, Swerve, Monzo ‘n Quickmix,” Jazz greeted the brewers as they stood. “’M introducin’ Prince Prowl to the traditions o’ the festival. It ain’t celebrated in Praxus. Hope ya’d share yer part.”

“In Polihex, Your Highness, all brewers and distillers have some tie to this guild,” the lanky, taupe master, Corkscrew, explained. “Access to distilleries is controlled due to the potential danger of many of the additives that go into making engex and engex based fuels. While there are many bars and oil houses throughout Polihex, few have private distilleries due to city ordinances, and most brews are distilled here in the guild hall. Membership in the guild is all that is required to rent a distillery, and to \compete in the festival’s competition.”

“Judging is blind,” the red and silver master, called Quickmix added. “The first round is done by festival attendees pulled from the crowd. The finalists are judged by His Serene Highness, and Masters of other Arts.”

“We share samples of our brews with everyone attending the celebrations,” the Urayan x-frame called Monzo explained. He gave his guildmate called Swerve a side long look. “Some samples vary in size.”

“Quality over quantity, my friend,” the red and white minibot replied, with a grin. 

Clearly the competitive spirits of the distillers were up, and not entirely on a friendly tone, but the Masters mostly kept their jabs at each other to a minimum. At Jazz’s suggestion, the Masters took them on a tour of the guild hall, as they did they pointed out which distilleries their businesses rented, though Swerve was quite proud to point out he was licensed to run his own, private distillery. Though the distilleries within the guild hall were programmed with strong encryption to prevent tampering, there was nothing quite as secure as your own machine. Begrudgingly, the other masters agreed, though Quickmix that no private distiller had enough space to do several microbrews at once, and so far as the red and silver Polihexian Master, the fees due to the Guild were worth the investment. The minibot conceded that point. Prowl thought the competition would be interesting. Each of these masters had a different style of brewing, and concoctions, and so far as additives went, so long as they were legal, they were permitted.

“Our newest Master!” Quickmix exclaimed as they passed a row of distilleries where a single navy and silver femme was working. “Dipole, I didn’t know you were at the hall this ‘cycle?”

“Making some final touches before I bottle my house tonic,” the femme explained without looking up from the gauges on her rented machine. When she did turn and saw who was with the other masters, she jerked with surprise before starting to go to her knees. Based on the thickness of her accent, she was not native to Polihex.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Jazz said, raising his servos. “’M really not much for that.”

“As you wish... Serene? Highness?” Dipole stumbled over how to address the Polihexian sovereign.

“Have ya just gained mastery or did ya earn it back in yer homeland?” The sovereign asked. Prowl thought it was this that would make the citizens of Polihex love him, not addressing them, but speaking with them.

“I had a place on Damaxus,” the femme explained. “It’s a little island in the Rust Sea. I still have it, but I wanted to try something bigger.”

“I know the island,” Jazz replied. “Welcome to Polihex, ‘n good luck in the contest. ‘M bettin’ you got an entry.”

“That I do!” Dipole said. “I’m opening my bar at the start of the festival! As long as everything’s ready.”

“Then we’ll leave ya to it,” the Polihexian said. “Masters, thank y’all for the tour. We’re off to the next stop o’ the ‘cycle. I look forward to seein’ what y’all put out for the festival!”

The next stop was the Maestro’s dance school. His company would be performing on the final mega-cycle of celebrations, and his student troops would all be performing, either in solos or in groups throughout the festivities. When the dance master saw his patron arrive he greet both Jazz and Prowl with open enthusiasm. Despite himself, Prowl smiled. This mech was one of the first Polihexian he had thought of at all as an ally. Prowl was pleased to see him again, and to see his youngest troop of dancers go through their choreography. These were sparklings, and their spirited, though not particularly elegant dancing was oddly endearing. Sparkling dance troops existed in Praxus but they would but perfection had been expected of them too, sparklings so young as these would not have been permitted to dance during any public festivals, and Prowl was suddenly a little sorry for it. Perfection, the very thing he demanded of himself, may not have been so important to the dance, but rather it was the spark, and the joy of the dancer that made the performance.

“I suppose you will not dance, Your Serene Highness,” the Maestro said.

“Not this festival,” Jazz replied. “’M gonna watch outta respect for my ‘genitor, ‘n Polihex.”

“We’ll make certain to give you a show worth watching,” the dance master promised. “This is Your Highness’ first Festival of Mortius?”

“It is Maestro,” Prowl replied. 

“You’re in for an experience,” the Maestro declared. “It’s a distinctly Polihexian event.”

The Maestro’s description was absolutely accurate, the Praxian concluded as Jazz and he drove back to the palace, encircled by their guards, after spending the entire mega-cycle visiting with the various guilds and groups responsible for putting on the festival. Beyond just the distillers competition, confections of all varieties would be judged as well, along with works of art and musical compositions. There would be performances in the streets, so long as the weather was agreeable, as well as in the opera house and music halls. Mechanisms would celebrate over the course of the orn, with family and friends. There was always some work for the Enforcers, Hosehead had explained, because there were always some mechanisms that got stupid and overcharged. Just stupid was problematic enough, the Polihexian Enforcer had joked, but adding overcharged to it was always a bit of a mess. Prowl may never have served patrol shifts, but he had seen the fallout of overcharged and stupid himself back in Praxus and he doubted it would be any neater in Polihex.

“The Palace pays for transports,” Jazz explained as they arrive home. “Hopin’ to keep accidents down. Mostly it’s stupid fights.”

“Praxus is not immune to the same trouble,” Prowl replied.

“What’s this?” Nightbeat asked, gesturing to the spires of the palace. Prowl looked up and saw mechanisms dangling from the roof of the palace, hanging some kind of decorations.

“Garland for the festival,” the sovereign explained. “Mostly outta crystals. When it’s all ready, the palace is gonna sparkle. There gonna start puttin’em up in the city too. There always a risk o’ hangin’em too early ‘n them gettin’ damaged by the Rains. But we got a lot to get up... Probably gonna take a coupla orns.”

It was going to be impressive, Prowl thought. Beautiful in the way Polihex was beautiful but so different from Praxus. Instead of homesickness, the prince felt anticipation. The inspiration for the holiday resonated with Prowl, and he was looking forward to experiencing the colourful chaos alongside Jazz. The only matter of some concern to the Praxian was the gift giving. A large part of the private celebrations that would occur simultaneous with the public ones was the exchanging of gifts. He knew perfectly well, without needing to be told, that Jazz would give him some token, and though he would not demand on in return, would not guilt Prowl for not presenting him with one, the prince wanted to to give his lover something. Jazz had said it was his favourite holiday, and Prowl wanted to share it properly with him. But the question circling in his processor, was what in Cybertron was he going to give Jazz?

End Chapter 3


End file.
